I Feel The Tide Turning
by davegrohlismyspiritanimal
Summary: Clary Morgenstern has lived an undoubtedly scarring life. Her father blames her for her late mother's death, and is extremely abusive. All she's ever wanted is someone to fill the void in her life. Can arrogant Jace Herondale, who's been through similar circumstances, be the missing piece she has yet to find? AU. All mundane.
1. Miserable At Best

Chapter 1: Miserable At Best

**It's rather short, but I want to find out if this story is worth my time or not.**

I'm not too fond of mornings. Especially ones that involve me waking up on the cold, hard, floor, covered in bruises. My 'father', Valentine as I Iike to call him, decided to give me another one of his signature beatings last night.

The physical pain is never as bad as the emotional pain, though. Having your own dad, someone who you're supposed to trust, spill your blood every single day isn't a very good feeling. It's one of the worse, actually.

I try to pull myself off the floor, but my body's too sore. I bite my lip through the pain, and force myself to stand. I have to grab the chair closest to me for support, though, or I'll end up falling over.

After coming into a pathetic, but satisfactory standing position, I make a feeble attempt to get into to the shower. Once I'm there, I turn the water on the highest setting, and take off my blood stained clothes.

I stand under the stream of water, and pretend it's stripping away all of the filth his hands left. Pretending is one of my biggest coping mechanisms. It helps me forget what has happened and what will happen.

I quickly shampoo and condition my hair, and then turn off the shower. I grab a towel and dry myself off. I walk into my room, to my closet, and pull out my school uniform.

I go to a private school, one of the -not so amazing- perks of living in a wealthy family. Having money isn't so great when you don't have love, though. I'd take love over money any day. But I know that will never happen. Not with the life I have, anyways.

I put on my uniform, pull on and lace up my boots, and head over to my mirror. I look at my reflection and sigh. There's a small, but noticeable, bruise forming right below my left eye. I take out my foundation and slather it over my face. It seemingly disappears, but I know it's there.

I then put on a minimal amount of mascara and eyeliner, to let my emerald eyes pop. I leave my flaming red hair in its usual frizzy state, and turn around to grab my bag. I walk out the door, letting it shut behind me.

I run down the stairs, silently hoping Valentine is already at work. As I make my way to the kitchen, I see that he, indeed, isn't home. Relieved, I grab an apple from the table and bite into it.

I hear my friend Simon honk his horn, telling me he's ready to take me to school. I run out the door, not caring to lock it, and saunter over to his car. I open the passenger side door and hop in.

He looks up and smiles. "Hey Morgue. Ready for another day of Hell?"

He calls me Morgue, because, not only is it a shorter way to say my last name, but I'm actually rather fascinated by the idea of death. It sounds weird, I know, but knowing that somehow, someday, that this torture will end, fills me with the tiniest bit of hope.

I shake my head no, as an answer to his question, and turn up the radio. Even though Simon's in a horrid band, he does have a decent taste in music. He's playing Therapy by All Time Low, one of the most relatable songs for me. I sing along to the words, and he soon joins in.

We make it to our school, Idris Institute, in no time, and I hop out of his car, shutting the door behind me. We walk into school together, and part our ways when we have to go to our lockers. I turn and wave at him, and he does the same.

"See ya in second period, Morgue.", he says over the chatter of our peers.

I give him a thumbs up and a nod, and walk to my locker. As I approach it, though, someone unfamiliar is standing right beside it. I furrow my brow, and continue to walk towards it.

The person turns, and I get a good look at him. And let me say, I am not disappointed. He has thick blonde, almost golden, hair that goes just pass his ears. He has eyes to match, and they're staring right into mine.

He smirks at me and says, "Admiring the view, Red?"

"I was, until that mouth of yours ruined it for me.", I retort.

He looks genuinely shocked that I would actually say something back to him. He must be the type that has everyone falling to his feet. I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to my locker.

I grab the books I need, close it, and make the walk to my first period. Leaving the shocked boy to mourn over being rejected.

**Review and tell me if you like it, yeah? I would really appreciate the feedback. :D**


	2. I'd Rather Die

Chapter 2: I'd Rather Die

**It's been a while, yeah? Writer's block is my enemy.**

I walk through the doors of my first period, History. I sit down at the desk closest to the window. I've always loved staring outside, not really paying attention to the teachers or the students.

As I'm doing just that, I notice the teacher and a swarm of students have already made it inside of the classroom. The bell rings shortly after, and I get out my notes. I hear the door open again, though, and I turn my head up to the sound. What I see makes my palms start to sweat, and my heart beat faster.

I see the blonde boy from earlier, and he's standing in the doorway, smirking. The teacher, Mrs. Carlisle, glares at him and announces, "It's nice of you to join us, Mr. Herondale. I understand you're new here, so I'll let you off the hook this time. Please do try to not make it a habit to be late, though."

With that, he just nods, struggling to hold back his remark. He walks into the classroom, but stops when he sees me. He smirks, stalks towards me, and sits down in the seat next to me. I sigh and turn my head back toward the window.

He, obviously not liking being ignored, grabs my arm, though. I turn my head towards him, aggravated, and ready to snap.

"I don't like being ignored, Red. So I'll formally introduce myself. I'm Jace. Jace Herondale. Nice to meet you.", he says holding out his hand, for me to shake I assume.

I just laugh at him, and, in return, he glares.

"At least tell me your name, so I don't have to keep calling you Red."

He does have a point there. When people judge me off of my hair color, it really pisses me off. I move his hand out of the way. I don't need any formalities. I just need some respect.

"It's Clarissa, but my friends call me Clary. So, you can call me Clarissa.", I say with a sweet smile on my face, turning back to stare at my notes.

"Wow, listen here you-", he starts, but is cut off by Mrs. Carlisle.

She glares, again, at Jace, and barks, "I sure do hope I'm not boring you. Refrain from talking to Clarissa, Jace, or you won't be in here for much longer."

I look over at him, and silently tell him to shut up. An angry Mrs. Carlisle isn't a good Mrs. Carlisle. He obeys, and stares straight forward completely focused on the notes the teacher was having us write down before.

I continue writing down the notes, occasionally doodling pictures in the margins. Every once in a while, I can feel Jace's eyes skim over me, and it sends chills down my spine. I don't know what he's doing to me, and I sure as hell don't like it.

The bell rings an hour into class, and I jump up to pack up my stuff. I rush out the door, eagerly wanting to get away from Jace. I run to my second period, huffing.

As I'm trying to flee, he catches up to me, tugging on my curly mess of hair. I turn to glare at him, and say, "What do you want, Jace? It's not like I'm the welcoming committee. You can't just follow me around like a lost puppy all day, you know. "

He looks at me, already expecting my rude way of speaking, and says, "Well, _Clarissa_, you aren't very welcoming, so that would make complete sense. Anyways, I just wanted to see if you could help me to my next period. Please, every other girl here just stares at me like I'm Jesus or something."

I sigh, deciding I should be a good citizen today. "Fine, let me see your schedule.", I say through clenched teeth. He hands me his schedule, and I look down at it. Great, he has the exact same damn classes as me.

"Follow me", I say handing him the paper back, and walking to the next period. This year is going to be literal hell, at home and at school. Great. I'll never really catch break, will I?

**It sucks because I suck.  
**

**It really sucks to suck. **

**xx**


	3. I Swear This Time I Mean It

Chapter 3: I Swear This Time I Mean It

We make it to second period with only about two seconds before the bell will ring. I'm not too worried about it, though. Our English teacher, Mr. Garroway, is actually the coolest guy ever. The fact that I'm the only intelligent life form in this school helps a lot with getting teachers to like me.

Jace and I fly through the door, causing the teacher to chuckle and shake his head. I walk over to my usual spot, hoping Jace sits somewhere else. With my luck, though, he sits right next to me.

Mr. Garroway starts his lesson, moving his hands as he explains it. I've always been amused by people who use hand gestures to speak. They're always so animated and lively. The complete opposite of me.

I think the reason I like him so much is because he's always been a sort of father figure to me. Through all these years of school, he's been there for me. He used to know my mom, they were friends in high school, so I think that's why he wants to protect me. He knew Valentine, too. He knows how cruel he can be.

I look over to Jace and notice he's smiling at Mr. Garroway, too. He has this look on his face. It's like he's never seen anyone so friendly before. He, noticing my staring, turns to meet my eyes. He raises his eyebrow, mouthing _what_?. I just shake my head, and turn my attention back to the front of the class.

Once class is over, I get up to leave. As I'm walking past the teacher's desk, he says my name, waving me over. I walk up to him and say, "Hey, what's up?"

He smiles, and says, "Nothing much, Clary. I just wanted to see how you're holding up. Is everything alright at home? Is Valentine treating you well?"

At the mention of his name, I freeze. How am I supposed to tell him that _no_, everything's not alright. That Valentine is more abusive than he ever has been. _How_?

I try to smile and nod, saying, "Yeah, yeah of course. We're all a little shaken up about mom, though."

His eyes light up with understanding. "Clary, you know you can ask for help from me anytime. I'd hate to see you crumble. You're too good for that."

I give him a thumbs up, bid my farewell, and turn to walk away. I notice that Jace was waiting in the doorway the whole time, though. Listening to our conversation, no doubt. His eyes are full of confusion.

"Hey, what was that all about?", he asks while following me out into the hallway.

This. This is the reason why I never tell anyone what's going on in my life. They always ask why, or what, or how. Why can't someone just understand for once?

I ignore his question, running off to third period. He runs to catch me, but I don't give up. We end up racing to beat the bell, him laughing, and me seriously annoyed.

* * *

"Clary," I hear an annoying voice whisper, "Claaaaary. Wake up."

I feel my hair being tugged on, and I try to slap the hand away. I groggily open my eyes, slowly lifting my head. I fell asleep in class, again, I guess. I'm really bad about doing that. I never get much sleep at night, with my dad around.

My green eyes dart around, only to meet with a pair of golden ones. They're full of concern, it seems. Actual genuine concern is on this menace's face. Completely unbelievable.

"Can you not, Jace? I'd really appreciate it.", I say, motioning to a strand of my fiery hair resting between his forefinger and thumb.

He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it, letting my hair go. I sigh, trying to come up with a plan of how to get rid of him. He's abnormally beautiful, I'll give him that, but he doesn't have a personality to match. Why do pretty people always think they're better than everyone else?

I hear the bell ring, and I begrudgingly pack up my stuff. Jace walks out without me and, for the first time today, I actually find myself longing for him to stay.


	4. Head To The Ground

Chapter 4: Head To The Ground

Simon is driving me home from school and, once we make it to my driveway, I see Valentine is already home. My demeanor changes, and Simon must notice, because he grabs my hand, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Clary? Why do you always tense up when we get to your house? Is it because of Jocelyn?", he asks softly.

I've never told him about Valentine. We've been friends since we were in diapers, and Valentine's always been abusive, but I don't want to burden him. People always leave in the end. There's no stopping it. He's the only person I never want to leave me, though.

"Yeah, sorta, Si. I'm fine, though. Do you want to come in with me?", I say trying to be casual.

He shakes his head no. "Sorry, Morgue, no can do. I've gotta do a project with that hot new girl. Isabelle, was it?", he says dreamily.

"Simon, I know you know her name. You probably stole her student file from the office. So, what's her blood type? A positive? B positive? Ooo, how about O negative ?", I say, waggling my eyebrows.

He just pushes my shoulder and tells me to get out of his car. I stick my tongue out of him and jump out, waving at him through the car window. He drives off, waving back, and leaving dust flying behind him.

I sigh, readjusting my uniform, and shifting the straps on my backpack. I'm obviously stalling, trying to delay the scene I'm about to endure. I'll walk through the front door, to see an ivory haired man with tensed muscles. He'll pounce on me straight away, if he had a bad day at work. Or, if he had an average day, he'll wait until after I cook him dinner. Either way, I'm screwed.

I finally get the courage to walk through the door, crossing my fingers behind my back. He's sitting on the couch, legs crossed, watching TV. His eyes aren't full with animalistic rage, which is usually a good sign. I check for the vein that usually pops out of his neck, and, it isn't there. I have to contain my sigh of relief.

"Hello, Clarissa. You're late. Get started on dinner. Now.", Valentine barks.

I nod, scampering off to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. I wish I had a bottle of poison. Lacing his food with it would be awfully satisfying.

* * *

I finish cooking his dinner: baked chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes. I set the table, making sure everything is in its right place. I walk back to the living room, quietly, not wanting to interrupt him.

"Um f-fa-ather. Your dinner is ready. It's set up and everything.", I stutter.

He turns his head, disgust clearly written on his face. He stands up and walks towards me, like a lion hunting its prey. He pets my hair, letting his hand fall down to my cheek, cupping it. I flinch, and he growls.

"What did I say about stuttering, my dear Clarissa? I despise it. Show your father some respect!", he hisses in my ear.

I anticipate the slap before it comes. That doesn't mean I don't feel the sting, though. That'll surely leave a red mark for a couple of hours.

"Yes, father, I understand. I won't do it anymore.", I say, stronger this time, despite the abuse.

He nods, and walks into the dining room. I quickly follow, pulling out his chair for him. He sits down, and begins to eat.

"Stop staring at me Clarissa, it's rather rude. You wouldn't want another punishment, would you?", he says, eying me harshly.

I shake my head, taking a seat, and begin eating, too. I eat as much as I can, because it might be the last food I'll have for a while. Valentine always takes pleasure in starving me.

He finishes and stands up from the table, wiping his mouth. He gives me a look that says _clean this up, and don't disappoint_. I do what the look tells me to do, like always.

After I'm done cleaning the kitchen, I walk back into the living room, to make sure he doesn't need anything else. He's still sitting on the couch, still watching TV. He looks up when I enter, and he still doesn't look as terrifying as usual.

"You can go to your room now, Clarissa. If I call for you, you better come running. There will be consequences if you don't do so.", he says sternly.

I'm so accustomed to this speech, that it takes all of my will not to mouth the words as he says them. I refrain, though, and nod, saying thanks quietly. I run up stairs, to my room, grateful that I didn't get anything more than a slap.

I throw open my door, basking in the refuge of my room. I walk over to my bed, pulling my sketchbook out from under my pillow. I grab my fancy art pencils, and sit down on the floor to sketch.

I let my mind escape on the paper, something I've always been good at. My mom used to paint, so I got the art skills from her. Art is the one thing I've grown to love more, instead of less, over the years. Everything else has lost its spark. Including me.

I began drawing, letting my mind completely relax. I don't even know what I'm drawing, and that's the beauty of it. You don't have to know, you just have to believe in it. You have to feel it.

I look down at the drawing, and gasp. I drew the boy from school. Jace. It looks like I took a picture of him, the details are so vivid. Have I really studied his face that much?

In the sketch, he's smiling. Not smirking, no. He has a real, peaceful smile on his face. He's listening to music, tapping the beat on his leg, completely free. In lunch today, he was doing the exact same thing.

Why does this golden boy stick out to me so much? _What is it about him? _He doesn't seem that different to me. My heart must be aching for love again. I just hope it doesn't reach out for him.

**Honestly, this is a such a generic plot, it's ridiculous. I had to change her sketch of Jace as an angel to something else. Being original is a really hard thing to do.**


	5. Breakdown

Chapter 4: Breakdown

I'm still staring at my drawing when I hear angry footsteps storming up the stairs. I throw my sketchbook back under my bed, not wanting it to be damaged. Valentine comes storming in my room, his black eyes full of anger.

He grabs me by the arm, pulling me up to his height. He slams me back to the floor, causing me to gasp in pain. That was a big mistake. Rule number one with Valentine: never show weakness.

"Clarissa, I called for you and you didn't answer. Time for your punishment", he says, grabbing me by the hair.

He throws me on my bed, going back down stairs. I know he isn't finished, though. He never finishes that early. He likes to make a show out of this.

Valentine comes back through the door, a lighter in his hand. Dammit. I absolutely hate the lighter. He comes closer, with an insane look on his face. I shiver under his gaze, and he notices.

He flicks on the lighter, and grazes my hand with it. I try to fight back my scream, but it comes out anyway. He moves the flame down to my leg, making the intensity higher.

I can smell my own burning flesh, and it send me into panic mode. I start thrashing around, screaming, pushing him away.

This only makes him angrier, though, and he punches me in the jaw. I see black in the corner of my eyes, and my head feels heavy. He throws me to the floor, kicking my in my ribs.

He leaves after he satisfied his bloodlust. I curl into a ball, my body wracking with sobs. My whole entire body aches, and I can't even breathe. It hurts so much, and I start to black out. I let myself succumb to the darkness, feeling exhausted and shattered. Just like any other night.

* * *

I make my way through the hallways of school, covering my hands with my sleeves. Makeup doesn't really cover burns too well. Thus, I am forced to hide my scarred hands from anyone who might see them.

My mind is still swarming with the aftermath of last night. It's not even the actual bruises that hurt, it's the thought of him hurting me again. I hate being so defenseless. I just hate being _me_.

As I'm walking to my locker, I see a blonde mop of hair, being sensually pulled by a pair of manicured hands. Ugh, Jace is making out with a girl right next to my locker. There goes my hopes of today ever getting better.

I rush to my locker, making sure my hands are covered the whole time. It's not like he would notice, with his tongue down another girls throat. I'm trying to keep my cool, but the pure thought of him with someone else freaks me out. I'm not supposed to care about him, but here I am, filled with jealousy over the lucky girl he decided to drown in his saliva.

I quickly grab my books, and slam my locker door shut. The sound makes the two spring apart, the girl blushing a fierce red, and Jace smirking. I roll my eyes, walking to first period.

I really hope I can keep this whole bitchy charade going a little longer. Hopefully he won't sense my weaknesses. That would really suck.

**I have writer's block yet again. Sorry for the lack of effort in this one. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites/follows. I really appreciate them, guys. :D**

**xx**


	6. Coming Clean

Chapter 6: Coming Clean

**I forgot I was on Christmas Break. Don't ask how that happens, it just does****. I'll either write ****_a lot_**** of chapters, or none at all. It really depends on how my days go.**

I just have to walk down this long hallway, and I'll make it to my class in no time. I take my time, knowing I'll be early anyways. My eyes catch something white, though, and I look up. It's Jonathan. Jonathan Morgenstern. The most feared guy at school, who just so happens to be my brother.

He's never around my house, he moved out after out mom died. He couldn't handle Valentine, and he couldn't handle me. He used to be a good brother. You know, the type that's protective, but can be fun and love you at the same time? He isn't that anymore.

Jonathan let Valentine rub off on him. He attacks everyone at this school, but he's so good with words that the teachers never seem to notice. I've avoided him at all costs, but it seem a that today I won't be able to escape.

Once he sees me, he smirks. His smirk isn't like Jace's at all. His doesn't have a dash of gentleness, no. His is all anger and violence.

"Oh, look, it's my dear sister, Clarissa. How have you been? I've missed you.", he says, coming up to touch my hair.

The single touch brings back so many flashbacks. He used to come into my room, late at night, and tell me to keep quiet. He used to touch me. Even Valentine is against rape, let alone incest, but his son isn't. His son craves to break people, just like he was broken long ago.

I whimper under his touch, my eyes brimming with tears. No one is around to help, and if I started to scream, he would surely hurt me again.

"Don't be afraid, darling. I just want to love you again.", he says dragging me to the janitor's closet.

"No! Jonathan, please stop! Please. I don't want this, I never did. Someone help me!", I plead, my voice shaking with fear.

He turns and grabs my hair, slamming me against the wall. His eyes are full of anger and lust. He goes in for a kiss, and I slam my eyes shut. If I pretend it isn't happening, I'll be okay. The kiss never comes, instead, I just hear a yelp of pain, and him being thrown off of me.

I open my eyes to find Jace beating the living shit out of Jonathan. When did he even get here? Why did he even come?

Jonathan has always been good at fighting, he learned from our father. He's no match for Jace, though. I'm almost afraid Jace might kill him. Not for Jonathan's sake, of course.

"Jace. It's fine now. You can stop.", I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turns around, his knuckles bruised, and his hair disheveled. His eyes are full of rage, but as soon as he sees me, they turn soft. He rushes over to me, but stops when he sees my hands.

I look down, noticing my sleeves were above my elbow, revealing the scars years of abuse have left. I quickly pull them down, praying he won't say anything about them.

"Clary, are you okay? Who was that creep?", he says, completely dismissing the scars.

I sigh, deciding to tell him the truth. "He's my brother, Jace."

His eyes go wide, having just heard that my brother was trying to kiss me.

"U-um, like, full blooded? And he was trying to kiss you?", he asks, trying to keep his voice down.

I nod, knowing that I need to explain it to him. "I'll explain later. I need to get to class."

I go to walk to class, but he gently grasps my wrist, right where the burns are. I his slightly in pain, and he loosens his grip.

"No, Clary. I need to make sure you're okay. We're ditching the rest of school today.", he says, not allowing me to refuse.

He pulls me to his chest, hugging me close. My heart beat accelerates, and I hope he doesn't notice.

"I'm glad you're okay. You really scared me, Clary.", he says, completely serious.

I'm too overwhelmed with emotion that I just nod. He grasps my hand and pulls me along down the hallway, my body shivering from the contact.

* * *

Jace ended up driving us to Central Park. Once we get there, he walks over to the playground, all the while holding my hand. He goes to the swings, plopping down in one, gesturing for me to sit in the one next to him. I do, and we start pumping our legs.

"Are you up for telling me what's going on? I'm really confused. Why was your brother trying to..", he drifts off.

"It's fine, Jace. You can say it. He was trying to rape me. You should know, though, it wasn't the first time.", I say, my voice shaking.

He clasps my hand, urging me to go on. I take a minute to breathe, forcing the tears to go away.

"It all started when my mom died three years ago. I was 13, and he was 14. It really hit both of us hard, but it hit my dad even more. He started hitting both of us, saying we were the reason she died. Jonathan always got hit harder, so he started thinking it was my fault.", I say, looking to a Jace, searching for the inevitable look of sympathy on his face.

I don't find the sympathy, though. I only find understanding. The look urges me to go on, to tell the rest of my story. Opening up feels so good. It makes me feel free.

"He started to come into my room at night, duct taping my mouth shut, and telling me to keep quiet. He would do it every night, if he wasn't injured too bad from our dad. All of the raping stopped, though, after he moved out. Valentine went to far, causing Jonathan to end up in the hospital.", I say, waiting for Jace's response.

We both had stopped swinging, and he gets up to kneel in front of me. His eyes are hard now, with what, I don't know.

"Does he, your father, still hit you? Clary, please tell me. Is that where you got these burns?", he says, lightly tracing the scars on my hands.

I nod, unable to speak. He stands up, taking me with him.

"You don't have to do this on your own anymore, Clary. I'm with you. I'm going to save you from him.", he says, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

He leans in, kissing me softly on the lips. I grasp his curls, letting our lips mend in synch with each other's.

For the first time in my life, I actually feel safe. Jace can actually save me, I'm sure of it. There's just one thing bothering me: what has he gone through that makes him understand this?

**Woah Clary came clean. Woah they kissed. Woah.**


	7. Have A Little Faith

Chapter 7: Have A Little Faith

"Clary, I'm not so sure about this..", Jace says, scratching the back of his head, an uncertain look dwelling his face.

We're standing in front of a pond, right across from the park. Ducks and fish alike are swimming along the waters edge, a sign stating "Do not feed ducks" stationed in front of it.

"Oh, come on, Jace. You aren't afraid of a wittle baby duck are you?", I ask him, making a pouty face.

He waves me off, dismissing the thought.

"O-of course not. Where would you get that impression from? Heh.", he says, his voice unsteady.

I just shake my head, grabbing his hand.

"Have a little faith.", I say, smiling, dragging him towards the ducks.

One of the ducks lifts it's feathers, causing Jace to run behind me, cowering. I giggle at the scene.

He glowers at me, and the duck comes from out of the pond and starts quacking angrily at him. He runs off, screaming profanities.

"You see! The little buggers are quacking spawns of satan!", he yells, heaving.

I can't help but laugh. Honestly, watching an otherwise intimidating guy running from a duck like a little girl is pretty hilarious.

I decide to help him out, running after him, and grabbing his hand again.

"Come on, I wouldn't want you to wee yourself from fright.", I say, laughing.

He nods, eagerly, and runs off, taking me with him. We make it back to his car, me having a fit of giggles, and him clutching his chest in fear.

"Y-you're a horrible girlfriend.", he says, gasping.

I look up at him, a small smile forming on my lips.

"Did you just call me your girlfriend?", I say around my smile.

He, noticing his slip of words, blushes. I have to fight back my giggle, and he just nods, speaking lovingly.

"Yeah. I guess I did.", he says, wrapping his arm around me, ushering me to the passenger side of the car. He opens the door for me, closing it shut when I get inside.

"Where to, miss?", he asks once he gets settled in the driver's seat.

"Well, I would say the stars, but I'm not up for the whole Titanic quoting thing.", I say, laughing at him.

"Ugh, you're no fun. You'd make a perfect Rose, you've got the hair and everything.", he says, a pout forming on his mouth.

"You do know that Jack dies, right? So, in stating that I'm Rose, that would make you my Jack. Which would lead us to the inevitable heartbreak that death brings along with it."

"Shit, Clary. You're too philosophical for me. Why can't we roleplay all cute like normal couples do?", he asks, not entirely joking.

I laugh, grabbing his face in my hands, and kiss him. He sighs, kissing me with more force than before.

When we pull back, he's smiling with contentment. He turns on the car, pulls it into gear, and drives off, switching on the radio, and singing at the right moments.

* * *

I beg Jace to drop me off at my house, even though I would much rather stay with him.

"Clary, he's just going to hurt you again. I can't let that happen, not when I have the power to stop it.", he says, locking the car doors, once he gets close to my house.

I sigh, "Jace, he'll hurt me even more if he finds out I skipped class, and that I was with you. Just, leave it alone for now, okay? I don't want you to get hurt, too."

He shakes his head, but obliges, unlocking the door.

"Promise me that you'll call, okay? As soon as you can, just- just let me know you're okay.", he says, grabbing my hand, a concerned look on his face.

I just nod, give him a kiss on the cheek, and run out of the car. I wait until I hear the familiar sound of gas letting off, and his engine starting, but I don't hear it. He waits until I make it to my front door, and I turn around to look at him.

He smiles, it lighting up his whole face. I just shake my head, waving at him as he slowly drives off.

I open my front door, praying that once Valentine gets home he won't notice something different. If he knew I skipped class to hang out with a boy, he would surely be pissed. And not in the loving father way. In the "I'm going to kill you and whoever you've decided to tarnish with your worthlessness" way.

I run up the stairs, taking two at a time, and throw open my bedroom door. I sigh, walking to my bed, and crawling under it to get my sketchbook. My fingers are itching to draw the scene I had with a Jace today.

After an hour of drawing, I hear the front door open. Valentine must be home, so I throw the book back under the bed, whispering my goodbyes to it.

I make my way down stairs, and into the kitchen to make his dinner again. He walks up to me, and I stiffen.

"Make my dinner, Clarissa. I'm not in any mood for mistakes.", he says, brushing his way past me to the fridge to grab a beer.

I want to say "When are you ever in the mood, twat", but I decide against it. That would never make it past him. Instead, I just nod, gathering the ingredients for tonight's dinner.

As I'm cooking, I relive today's adventures. Jace and I's kiss. The duck scene that followed that. And even me telling him my secrets.

It feels good to know I have someone there for me. Someone who won't judge me. Someone who will protect me. Someone who can save me.

**I'm writing this at 4 in the morning, so if it sucks, that's why.  
Yay for screwing up your sleep schedule that you tried so hard to keep up. Yay for breaks.**

**xx**


	8. Key To Happiness

Chapter 8: Key To Happiness

"I'm going to help you all, give you a little advice.", Mr. Garroway announces, leaning on the edge of his desk.

A chorus of groans come from us, causing him to laugh.

"Aw, come on. I'm not going to lie to you guys. This might actually help you. Although," he says, "I can't promise you anything. I can't give you a correct solution, no one can really. You have to figure that out for yourself."

With no change of response from the class, he sighs, throwing his hands up in the air, and walks over to the whiteboard.

"The key to happiness.", he says the words as he writes them down.

The key to happiness. I could use that. I sincerely doubt it will work, though.

"Number one: You need something to do. Find something that makes you _you_. Make life worth living."

I already have that, I guess. Art and music: the two great loves of my life.

"Number two: You need someone to love. Even thought love is the number one cause for heartache, it's a lifesaver, too."

Well, shit. I mean, I think I love Jace. What even is love, exactly?

"Number three: The last one, and, in my opinion, the most important. You need something to work toward. You need hope.", he says, capping the dry-erase marker, and turning around to look at us.

_Hope_. My lips mouth the word, silently, testing the idea. A four letter word, meaning a want, a constant need, for a better future.

Ha. Like that would ever happen.

Jace looks over at me and raises his eyebrows as if to ask "do you believe any of this?".

"Hey.. It's worth a try, isn't it?", I whisper, wondering if being happy is really that easy.

He shakes his head, not believing that the idea could ever be true.

"Clary, you of all people should know it doesn't just take three simple steps. Life isn't that easy.", he says, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I know, I know. Wouldn't it be so much better if it was, though?", I mutter, sighing.

He grabs my hand, smiling a small smile.

"Who needs steps to happiness when you've already got me?", he asks, smirking.

"Oh, put it away.", I muse, glaring at him.

He looks at me, confused.

"What?", he asks, looking around.

"Your ego. Your head's going to implode if it gets any bigger."

"Rude.", he merely states, sticking out his tongue at me.

"Arrogant.", I say, raising my eyebrows.

"Ugh, I can't think of anything else. You win.", he smiles.

"I always win.", I declare.

He just shakes his head, and we continue our going no where conversation. I don't care if it doesn't have a point. It feels good. It feels good having him.

**Dear God, this one's short. I wrote it during school and inspiration wasn't really forming. Next one will definitely be longer, though. **

**xx**


	9. Lover's Eyes

Chapter 9: Lover's Eyes

Two weeks have passed since the little key to happiness speech. I don't know why Mr. Garroway's words are effecting me so much, they just are. It's like I've been waiting for a cure to this sadness, but I know it won't go away as long as I stay with Valentine.

Speaking of Valentine, he's been out of town for two days, and I'm having a pretty fantastic time without him. The conversation went a little like this:

"Clarissa," Valentine starts off, his voice harsh, "I'm going out of town for a month or so for business. Don't even consider inviting anyone over, or there will he sever punishment."

"Alright, father. Have a safe trip.", I say calmly, but on the inside I'm jumping up and down in excitement.

"I left money on the counter for food. I wouldn't want you to starve to death.", he says with a sneer, as he walks out of the front door, his suitcase trailing behind him.

As soon as the door clicks, and I hear his car drive away, I jump up from my place on the couch. I run over and grab my cell phone, unlocking it and scrolling to text Jace.

( Jace is in _italics_ and Clary is in **bold** text c: )

**Our dearest Vallie's gonna be gone for a month, he just left. Wanna come over?**

_That's seriously the best thing I've ever read. I can't come over until Friday, though. :(_

**Aww, alright. I'll see you at school, then.**

_Try not to have too much fun, Red._

**I can't make any promises. (;**

* * *

"How does it feel, Red?", Jace asks me, as he lounges on my bed, his arms over his head.

"Hm? How does what feel?", I ask, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"How does it feel to be free?", he says, laughing animatedly.

I pick up a pillow from the floor and throw it at him.

"Dork.", I say, laughing back at him.

"No, but seriously. Isn't it pretty awesome? You know, not having to worry about him.", Jace says, his eyes holding a serious glint to them now.

I nod, completely agreeing with him.

"Yeah. It is pretty cool.", I say, jumping on the bed with him.

My bouncing causes him to fall of the bed, a yelp froze in his throat.

"Jace are you okay?", I struggle to say through my giggles.

"Y-yeah. I'm peachy.", he says, rubbing his side in pain.

"Hey, what's this?", he asks, pulling my sketch book out from under the bed.

"No! Don't touch that.", I frantically say, throwing myself on the floor with him.

I'm too late, though, because he's already flipping through the pages.

"Did you draw these? They're really good.", he says in awe, gently touching the drawings on the paper.

"Um, yeah. Can I have it back now?", I ask, not wanting him to see the pictures of him.

He looks up at me, a small smile on his face.

"Why are you so embarrassed?", he asks.

"No reason.", I reply, praying he doesn't flip to the last page, where he resides.

To my greatest dismay, though, he does indeed flip to that very page. He looks down at the paper, his face completely void of any emotion.

"U-um, that's totally not you. It's, uh, this guy I saw on the subway the other day.", I say, wincing at the look on his face.

He looks up at me, his tawny eyes glowing.

"That's me. You drew me.", he says, smiling at my flushed cheeks.

I sigh, giving up.

"Yeah. I drew you. Sorry if it's really creepy and all, I just really liked the look on your face when you were listening to music. That sounded really creepy, too. S-", I say, but I'm cut off by his lips against mine.

"You really need to learn to shut up.", he teases once we part.

"Sorry.", I say, blushing.

"And to stop apologizing.", he points out.

"Sorr- Yeah. I'll just stop talking now.", I say, laughing.

He looks back down at the sketch, still smiling about it.

"I can't believe you drew me."

"Well, you do have a perfectly sculpted face and all. I've been dying to draw you ever since I saw you.", I say, smiling at him.

"Eh, I've been told that by many a girl.", he replies, smirking.

I gently smack his chest, playfully glaring.

"Okay, okay. You're the only girl that matters, though.", he says, rubbing his chest.

"That's better.", I laugh out.

I guess him finding out about my drawings isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's one less secret I have to keep from him. One less weight off my shoulders. He probably won't stop teasing me about it, though.


End file.
